Revelations
by jazwriter
Summary: A year after Paris, Andy breaks a story which affects Miranda's life and brings the two together. FEMSLASH Mirandy. This is a repost into parts.
1. Chapter 1

**Revelations**

Author: JAZWriter

Pairing: Miranda/Andy The Devil Wears Prada

Rating: Mature audiences/MC-17 in the later chapters

Summary: A year after Paris, Andy breaks a story which affects Miranda's life and brings the two together.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, which is a true pity. Nor am I trying to obtain any monetary gain through this story. Don't make me waste my time litigating such a silly case. No, no. That wasn't a question. Don't bore me with details…

**Special Thanks to law_nerd** for beta-ing this story. She sure knows how to clean up a mess! This started out as a smaller story, but after an interesting, if very well-worded slap on my wrist for being rather lazy with the timeline, I rewrote it.

* * *

><p>Part 1<p>

Andy ran into the _Mirror_ and practically slid into her desk, scrabbling to answer her desk phone. "Andy Sachs, the _Mirror_," she said, knowing she sounded out of breath. Well, she was. Her cell phone had been ringing off the hook since 5 a.m. for Christ's sake, the subway had been running slow, and damn it, she hadn't even had a cup of coffee, yet.

"Andrea."

The winded reporter sat up quickly as any air still in her lungs promptly left. "Miranda?" she wheezed, recognizing the voice, one that graced her dreams on a regular basis, but not the vocal intonation.

"Lunch. Today. Roy will pick you up at 12:30. That's all."

Andy stared at the phone, hearing only the dial tone. Replacing the arm of the phone onto its cradle as gently as if it were an armed bomb, the journalist took a few deep breaths to get her heart rate down. _Lunch. Today. With Miranda._

She had hoped against hope that Miranda would contact her. She had hoped against hope to garner her former employer's attention. She had hoped against hope to hear her voice and maybe even to see her again. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, she was scared shitless.

Yes, that about summed it up: shitless. Andy began to tremble. _Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God._

Not knowing what else to do, Andy booted up her computer. Her cell phone rang. Recognizing the number, she answered it quickly. "Honey, it's all over the news! I can't believe you did this!"

"Mom," Andy quickly interjected.

"I mean, after all she did, how could you even contemplate—"

"Mom," Andy tried again.

"And I bet she won't even acknowledge—"

"Mom!" Andy practically yelled. Blessed silence. Noticing several colleagues watching her with interest, Andy shrugged her shoulders and grinned before returning her attention to the call. She needed to take advantage of shocking her mom into silence before she rallied and began her tirade once more. "I am an investigative reporter. I investigate. I find the truth. And I tell it. It's that simple."

"But, honey, that woman—"

"That woman helped me more than you'll ever know. She is why I have this job doing what I love. Why wouldn't I do this for her?" More silence. How wonderful. But short-lived.

"But why you? Why did you have to write the story? Surely there are other reporters—"

"Because I know all the key players. Mom, I was her assistant for a long time. It was my job to know her schedule, who was close to her, everything. Only someone so close to her could find the story and break it. I had the opportunity, and I took it. Don't make me apologize for wanting to do the right thing." Andy sighed.

Every other call had consisted of congratulations, compliments, and admiration. Her mom, however, was upset that her article, her five-page spread in the Sunday paper, had benefitted the Dragon Lady, the bane of Andy's existence during her short tenure as assistant at _Runway_ (and although Andy would not admit it, even now). Well that was just too fucking bad.

Sounding calmer her mother said, "I suppose. Doesn't she have attorneys for this sort of thing, though? Or couldn't she have hired a private investigator? Isn't that what the rich do?"

"Maybe. But I knew where to look. They might not have. Look, Mom, I have to go. I'll call you later."

"Okay, sweetheart. I love you," her mom graciously ended.

"I love you, too." After disconnecting, Andy sighed and set about listening to her voicemail messages.

Dialing in, she was surprised to find messages from Nigel, Emily, some reporters she'd met at various journalist functions over the past year, and her missing friends, Lily and Doug. She wasn't sure she wanted to call Lily or Doug. They had deserted her when she had needed them most. In some ways, she was glad her Benedict Arnold friends did not have her cell phone number.

Emily's message was short and to the point. "My God! You _must_ call me." Andy chuckled.

Nigel's message was particularly humorous. "Six? Six. I can't believe it. I am speechless. Which makes it hard to leave a message. Wait until I tell you how she responded. I was right there waiting for her head to thud against the Berber carpet when she read it. Call me." His sing-song voice made her smile.

Emily first. Dialing the number she knew by heart, she heard her call answered after the first ring. Smiling as she heard the well-known voice, Andy said, "Hi, Em."

"I can't believe it!" she whispered forcefully. "Andy, what made you do this? Miranda is beside herself, and the phones are ringing off the hook."

Hearing this, Andy became a bit nervous. She needed to know what to expect when she saw Miranda today. "Is Miranda angry with me?"

"With you? No! With everyone else though. If you were here she'd probably kiss you!"

Stunned, the young reporter tried to grasp the meaning of Emily's words. So, Miranda wasn't mad at her. That was good.

"Oh. Well, I'm sure she is busy trying to use the information—"

"You think? Geez, Andy. She's been on the phone with her lawyers and PR for the past hour. I hate to admit it, but I," Emily let loose a large sigh, "I am impressed." She sounded pained by her admission. Andy blinked.

"Thanks, Em." Andy grinned. "Thanks."

"Shit. Miranda's eying me. We have to get together for drinks. Tomorrow night?"

"Uh, yeah. That'll be fun."

In a rushed voice, Emily said, "All right. I'll contact you tomorrow." Then she hung up.

Andy sat thinking about their conversation. No doubt Emily wanted details, just as Nigel did—just as Miranda did. Andy was prepared to reveal everything to Miranda and a limited amount to her former colleagues. Right now, though, she was hoping Nigel would be more cooperative than she intended to be.

"Nigel, hi—"

"Six!" Nigel interrupted. "You wily woman. I didn't know you had it in you. I want details!"

"And you'll get them. But first I want to hear how she responded."

"Yes, I thought you might. Are you sitting?" he asked dramatically. At Andy's affirmation, he began his narrative.

"She arrived in a terrible mood. Evidently, paparazzi were waiting for her outside her door shouting questions related to the article. She didn't know what they were talking about. You know how she hates being in the dark about anything."

Andy hummed sympathetically. Yes, she knew. That was why the editor required her assistants to be with her at all the large events, feeding names and information about each person who approached her. Miranda hated being caught unaware. Andy had considered tipping Miranda off ahead of time but had decided against it. Perhaps that was due to her fear of contacting the fearsome woman directly, but Andy preferred to tell herself it was because she knew a couple of hours' notice wouldn't have mattered. Weak rationalization, she knew, but that was her story, and she was sticking to it.

"She got to her desk and noticed that your rag was on top. Emily had warned me, so I followed her into her office on some pretext. Her eyes got so wide—I've never seen her react to anything like that, Six. It was incredible. As she read the article, she began smirking. You know how she looks when she has the upper hand. And then her infamous evil laugh erupted—terrifying." Andy could practically see Nigel completing the sentence with a mock shudder. She grinned.

"After she finished the article, she returned to the front page and, I can hardly believe I saw this, her eyes filled with tears. Tears, for Christ sake! As if that weren't mind-blowing enough, this wide, soft smile covered her face. It was unbelievable, Six! And she said in this breathless voice, 'Andrea.' Then she sighed like a love-sick school girl and swooned."

"Oh my God. Dramatic much?" Andy smiled as she heard Nigel's laughter. "Are you serious, though? She smiled? She said my name?" the shocked reporter whispered.

"Yup. You really threw her for a loop. Now. I want details."

"I'm meeting Emily for drinks tomorrow night. Why don't you join us, and I'll be able to tell both of you."

"Siixxx, you're going to make me wait until tomorrow?" Nigel whined.

"Yes, but to tide you over, I'll let you in on a little secret. Are you listening?" Andy teased.

"You know I am, you little minx."

"I'm meeting Miranda for lunch today." As Nigel began to shoot questions at her, Andy laughed gaily. "Sorry, Nige. I've got to go. See you tomorrow!" She hung up, tickled. That was fun.

Feeling excited by Nigel's information, Andy pulled up her email. This would take awhile to clear out. Andy didn't mind, though. Normally she didn't even work on Sundays, but she had gotten behind with her assignments while concentrating on the article concerning Miranda. Andy had begun investigating it months ago. She had been following the news since she'd left _Runway_, tracking Miranda as best she could. She hadn't dared ask Nigel or Emily for information, although both had provided her with insight when they spoke. Such conversations were few and far between, though. She could count on her left hand how many times she'd seen them in the past year. Yet, Andy felt as if no time had passed whenever she spoke to either of them.

This contrasted greatly with how she felt regarding her separation from their boss. That seemed endless. Painfully long. So she read every little bit of information she could gather from newspapers and listened to every tidbit offered in passing. Eventually, things hadn't added up. That had bothered Andy. She needed to find the answers. Thus began her investigative expose. She informed no one until her research yielded fruit. Then she told only her editor. A week later, he ran it.

Three hours later found Andy beginning to get nervous. Roy was due to pick her up in ten minutes. Preliminary numbers showed that the paper had sold twice the normal amount. The chief wanted her to write a follow-up. She would have to discuss it with Miranda. More importantly, Andy wanted to know Miranda's feelings about the article. About her. _She had smiled and said my name. She had tears in her eyes._ That had to be good.

Packing up her bag and logging off the computer, Andy waved to her colleagues and hurried outside. Taking a deep breath, the young woman chirped out a hello to Roy and slid into the car. It was empty. Andy had anticipated seeing Miranda. She didn't know whether to be grateful for the temporary reprieve. "Roy?"

"Yes, Andy?" he answered as he eased into traffic.

"Where are we going?"

"To the townhouse," he answered easily.

Andy was surprised. Of course everything Miranda had done today had surprised her. Why shouldn't that continue?

"Isn't her house swamped with reporters and photographers?" Andy asked, concerned how it would look for her to show up today of all days.

"Not to worry. We have a plan to get rid of them." Andy could see the smile on Roy's face and wondered what they were going to do. Instead of pursuing that line of thought, Andy decided to try a new tack.

"How did she seem today? What am I up against?" Andy waited breathlessly, hoping Roy would indulge her curiosity. Normally, Andy wouldn't attempt to compromise Roy's loyalty to Miranda, but she was confident Roy would recognize she had no intention of hurting the editor with such information.

Roy seemed to understand. "She was in a foul mood going into the office. Lately, she's gotten a lot of press because of the divorce, but nothing like this. Excuse me, Andy." He turned onto Miranda's street and spoke into his blue tooth. "I'm heading your way. Thanks."

Andy puzzled over those cryptic words, craning her neck to see what was occurring down the street. She saw a crowd of paparazzi converging on a white-haired woman who walked down the steps and entered a towncar. Miranda!

While Andy watched the drama unfold, Roy continued. "When I picked her up, though, she seemed very pleased. And excited. I haven't seen her that, well, I guess the best word would be light, since you worked for her." Roy's eyes met hers through the rearview mirror. "I read the article, Andy. I know you're the reason why."

Not knowing what to say, Andy tried to make sense of what she was seeing even as she listened to Roy's words. Miranda's car had driven away and with it went the crowd of reporters hot on its trail. Roy pulled up, got out, and opened the door to an empty street.

"It's nice to see you again, Andy. Don't be a stranger." Roy smiled and held the door open for her. "She'll be returning through the back door." Nodding goodbye, Roy returned to the car as Andy ascended steps she never dared believe she'd be climbing again.

Andy turned the handle, finding the door unlocked, and entered quietly. She was met by two inquisitive stares. Caroline and Cassidy. Of course. It was the weekend, after all.

"You left Mom—"

"You work for the _Mirror_."

"But you helped Mom—"

"Why?"

Both looked at her expectantly. Andy took a deep breath trying to determine who was who. The one on the left who'd begun the interrogation must be Caroline. She was the one who'd convinced her to mount the stairs with the Book on that infamous day so long ago. Night. Whatever. Caroline was the leader, the one with the devious smile and persuasive words.

Not sure what to say, she was saved by a softly cleared throat. Lifting her head quickly to scan the area behind the girls, Andy saw Miranda leaning against a door jamb, a slight smile gracing her visage. "Girls, no need to attack our guest as soon as she steps in the door. I'm sure she'll be more forthcoming once we feed her." Elegantly motioning with her head for Andy to follow her, Miranda turned and walked toward the back of the house.

Andy was left wondering how anyone could make such a commanding gesture look elegant. Miranda pulled it off effortlessly.

Placing her purse and accordion file on a side table, Andy hurried to follow. Andy felt warmth roiling through her as she noticed how well Miranda's ensemble accented her porcelain skin, hourglass shape, and saliva-inducing backside. Andy's hands itched to touch her.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave through the back door later. Although they are absent now, I have no doubt those sorry excuses for reporters will be back to hound me soon enough." Miranda led them to a tastefully decorated kitchen. On the table were placed a huge chef's salad, a plate with grilled chicken, crystal decanters filled with various dressings, and several beverages. Caroline reached for lemonade while Cassidy filled her glass with iced water.

Andy waited for everyone else to seat themselves before choosing the chair across from Miranda. The table was made of a light wood. _Maple?_ It was beautiful with oscillations that reminded her of a quilt. Andy stared for a moment longer before turning her attention to her meal. She watched, surprised, as Miranda filled Andy's glass with water. That was what she'd planned on drinking. Apparently, Miranda knew her tastes. Andy shyly smiled her thanks and nearly fell off her chair when Miranda smiled back at her. This was a side of Miranda she'd never seen before. It was provocative. Andy felt her heart speed up as she dug into her salad.

The silence only lasted for a few moments before the girls started to talk about school, their friends, and the new movie they wanted to watch. Andy listened avidly. She had never witnessed Miranda's interactions with her children. It was enlightening. Miranda seemed as intent on their words as she was when reviewing the all-important Book. Her entire attention was focused on them. Andy wondered what it would feel like to be the center of such regard.

Like the flick of a switch, Andy felt the air change as she heard Miranda's next words caress her ears. "Andrea. Writing obviously agrees with you." A question hung in the air. Miranda expected answers. Interestingly enough, Andy didn't feel icicles freezing her veins in fear. She felt quite warm again, actually.

Taking Miranda's lead, Andy began composing her explanation. She felt calmness settling over her. After raising an eyebrow in question, glancing at the girls, then receiving a brief nod from Miranda, Andy began.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Miranda sat listening, mesmerized, as her former assistant released impossible, wonderful words. They fell from the younger woman's mouth without pause for so long that, by tale's end, the late afternoon light filtered through the kitchen window casting shadows on Andrea's attractive face. How she had missed that small wrinkle between the girl's eyes when she concentrated. That earnest voice and bright smile. And, above all, that soothing presence. When she was in Andrea's presence, she felt carefree. She felt more powerful. She felt she was truly seen. Andrea gave her hope for the future. Andrea also stirred up insecurities and self-doubt she thought long laid to rest. She saw Andrea falter when their eyes met. Miranda panicked, afraid Andrea had guessed her thoughts. Shoring up her mask of indifference, Miranda chose to interrupt.

"So, let me see whether I understand," the editor drawled. "You noticed discrepancies in the reports regarding my contested divorce and chose to investigate. With some digging you were able to uncover proof that Stephen had indeed cheated on me during our marriage even though all those expensive attorneys I've been paying could not. Is that the gist of it, Andrea?"

"Um, pretty much. I'm willing to provide you with the proof you'll need to file the appropriate court documents. I brought everything with me," Andrea said as she leaned back in her chair.

Miranda glanced at her watch, then looked again in surprise. They had talked for hours. The girls had excused themselves after receiving the most pertinent information, which the journalist had offered at the beginning of her explanation. Amazed at how quickly the day had passed, Miranda felt a twinge of apprehension when she realized Andrea might want to leave soon. Confusion set in once more. Why should she care if the silly girl left? They hadn't interacted in over a year. Why would she even talk to the girl after today, anyway? Miranda had wanted the details, the proof, and the reason for the article; that was all.

As Andrea's words halted, Miranda rose and indicated for her former employee to follow. She led her to the sitting room and crossed to the liquor bar. Silently, Miranda chose a bottle of white wine from the cooler, opened it, and poured two glasses. Daring to glance at the quiet woman, Miranda was arrested by the doe-eyed beauty watching her every move. Without further thought, the editor walked toward the appealing reporter and sat beside her on the chaise lounge as the girl extended her hand for one of the glasses.

Without pretense, Miranda gazed into Andrea's eyes. The white-locked fashion icon was searching for some sign, some indication of how to act, of what to say. She needed to know. None of her years of patronizing, condescending, demeaning behavior toward others could help her now. She wanted to reach out to her, but it was daunting. It wasn't that her desire to connect with Andrea was new or even that she didn't know how to be pleasant. Miranda realized that she simply didn't know how to let someone in without automatically attempting to protect herself, and her inability to reach out angered her.

"Why?" Miranda found herself asking faintly. Noticing Andrea's confusion, Miranda repeated her question in a firmer voice. "Why did you help me in this way, Andrea? What do you want?"

Miranda watched with interest as Andrea drank deeply from her glass. She appeared apprehensive and a bit insulted. It didn't matter whether she hurt the girl's feelings. Miranda wanted to know, needed to know. Miranda had learned over the years that the best way to get a straight answer was to provoke. To take the person off guard. What had driven the girl to such lengths? Why had she swooped in to save the day over a year after she had abandoned the editor in Paris? What drove this girl to research cell phone records, hotel logs, restaurant deliveries, and apartment leases for her benefit?

Andrea took a deep breath reining in her righteous indignation and then began. "Your well-being is important to me. I know I had no right to insert myself back into your life, particularly after I'd behaved so poorly by leaving _Runway_ without any type of explanation, but I never stopped caring. I may no longer be justified in taking action to make your life easier in a professional setting, but I'd be damned before I allowed anyone to hurt you personally when I could do something to prevent it." Miranda couldn't believe it. Seeing her skeptical reaction, Andrea jumped up, obviously distraught. "Perhaps I should leave."

"Don't you dare," the fashion maven hissed grabbing her wrist before she could bolt. "How like you to go above and beyond to help me and then to run away. I sense a pattern here, don't you?" Miranda spat vehemently.

Studying the agitated girl, Miranda prodded, "My well-being is important to you? Where were you for the past year? Did you think leaving me high and dry in Paris was in my best interest?" Miranda continued to study Andrea, trying to fathom the real reason she had barged back into her life and turned it upside down.

"What did you think would happen, Andrea?" Miranda rubbed the young reporter's wrist sensually as she pinned Andrea with her stare. "Did you think we would become friends? That I would tell you how much I'd missed you, how often you'd crossed my mind since the day you walked away from me?" Miranda sneered. Feeling her control slipping she descended into the persona she had cultivated over the last twenty years—the feared, stone-hearted bitch. It was much easier than allowing herself to be vulnerable.

Rising, Miranda pulled Andrea toward her as she stepped into the girl's personal space. Only inches separating them, Miranda whispered, "I find it unbelievable that you would selflessly spend months building a case against Stephen for my benefit and then walk away again so easily. No one is that selfless, Andrea. So. What. Do. You. Want?" The editor allowed only anger, fed through fear and confusion, to guide her actions as she forced Andrea to answer truthfully.

"You, I just want to spend some time with you," the words were ripped from the distraught girl's throat as she looked around wildly. Miranda knew she was unable to hide her incredulous stare as the resulting loud silence spurred Andrea's eyes to swing back to her face.

"You can't be serious. You want to be my friend, my confidante, my—what—what is it exactly that you want? No, no. Do not bore me with your pitiful explanations." Miranda leaned in so closely she could feel her breath mingling with Andrea's rapid exhalations. Andrea's obvious fear fed the editor's ire to new levels. "You silly little girl. You may mislead others into believing how altruistic and innocent you are, but you cannot trick me. Do you take me for a fool?"

Miranda couldn't understand why she was reacting so forcefully. She was driving the girl away with baseless accusations when that was the last thing she wanted. The truth was Andrea had stunned the editor. The white-haired woman had trouble processing what she had just heard. This stupid girl had stepped in to protect her. Miranda prided herself on being nearly invincible. Yet, she never quite pulled it off in her personal life. Whenever she opened herself to another person it came back to haunt her. At some point the person always capitalized on such vulnerabilities and left her heart bleeding and bruised. Each time she swore to herself that she would not allow anyone close to her again. If she kept people at a distance, she could not be harmed. Even Andrea had touched her heart and then left her. Was it any wonder Miranda imagined Andrea harbored some secret agenda?

It galled her that no one except Andrea had ever acted selflessly on her behalf before. Andrea had a way of piercing through her defenses with ease. She didn't feel confident she could withstand being hurt by Andrea again. _Best to drive her away._ Realizing that her punishing grip and harsh words had practically reduced Andrea to tears, Miranda smiled grimly and dropped the girl's hand. "Get out," Miranda growled. The editor spun away, striding to the window and staring out resolutely. She could not bear to look at Andrea a moment longer.

She heard the back door close quietly. Miranda contemplated recalling her, but what could she say? Hadn't she said enough already? Hadn't she hurt Andrea enough? Did Andrea really believe this could turn out well? Instead, Miranda sat down heavily in a chair not allowing her gaze to wander around the room. Studying her hands, Miranda thought about how Andrea made her feel.

She had wanted to kiss the foolish girl. She had wanted to hold her tightly and breathe in her innocence.

_How dare she waltz back into my life. _Miranda wanted to break her, to make her understand that nothing was simple. It had taken months for Miranda to stop looking for the girl outside her office. Months to stop looking for her everywhere. Miranda could have sworn she had seen the girl's shadow around the corner, across the street, behind the car, but each time she had lifted her head and searched, she could not find the elusive girl. She had even imagined seeing Andrea in the courtroom gallery a month back. A trick of the eyes, of course. For months Miranda had suffered through whiffs of Andrea's unique scent which tickled her senses at the most inopportune times. Months of harboring feelings of loss while hiding her sadness.

Finally Miranda had succeeded in tamping down her feelings, forcing her attention to be consumed by the magazine, her children, and her divorce. Until now. The editor felt herself slipping back into the melancholy she'd felt not so long ago. Andrea had thrown her into a tail spin once more. Miranda crossed to her home office, first detouring to retrieve the file Andrea had left her, and removed the now well-read article from her top desk drawer.

**_Over the last several months the media has reported every single speck of news, real and fabricated, regarding Miranda Priestly's divorce. Yes, THAT Miranda Priestly, the Editor-in-Chief of Runway. Not a day has passed without comment in the news since the initial paperwork was filed with the New York County Family Court. Although great drama unfolded, the facts revealed have remained rather unsubstantiated and sensationalistic. Thoroughly discouraged with my colleagues' articles, I proposed to find the truth._**

**_After an intense investigation, this reporter has uncovered it—the unvarnished, ugly truth. Although Stephen Tomlinson, Priestly's soon to be ex-husband, has attempted to circumvent the prenuptial agreement they signed before they wed by attacking his former love with baseless accusations, the Queen of Fashion has taken the high road by refusing to counterattack without irrefutable proof that he, in fact, invalidated said contract. In the spirit of helping a former employer who always demanded the truth, I have taken it upon myself to provide the Fashion Maven the proof she needs._**

**_Tomlinson was not very good at covering his tracks. He has left a trail that leads straight back to his mistress, Sheila Apperton. Does the name sound familiar? It should. She is the wife of well-known financial guru, Stanley Apperton. However, that expose must be introduced on another day. Tomlinson's bread crumbs were not eaten by birds, and his trail blazed brightly for those who knew where to look. _**

**_A review of Tomlinson's cell phone records reveals one number in particular that has been called repeatedly over the last two years (see copy below). The number belongs to Apperton. Calls occurred at all times of the day and night with clusters of calls occurring before and after Priestly's trips out of town for photo shoots and fashion weeks. A coincidence? When asked, Apperton claimed no comment. When we called the number again, we found it to be disconnected. (continued on Page 3)_**

**_Using the dates reflected through the cell phone records, a picture of when the adulterous activities occurred began to take shape. Spreading the search to Tomlinson's and Apperton's credit card statements, the dates of their extramarital meetings became glaringly obvious (see copies below). They clearly did not care whether they were seen, as exemplified by the charges to numerous high profile restaurants. Or, perhaps, they were overconfident. Interestingly, they have not frequented any of these places over the last six months. Is the honeymoon over?_**

**_On these charge cards are records of several hotel room rentals, most located close to Tomlinson's work. Other hotel charges outside of Manhattan often coincided with Priestly's work trips. Even during last year's infamous Paris Fashion Week when Tomlinson filed for divorce and informed Priestly by phone, he charged several days at the Desert Springs JW Marriott Resort & Spa, a five-star hotel in Palm Springs. Coincidentally, Apperton charged several items at a lingerie store close to that hotel during the same time period, as well as spa services at the hotel (see hotel printout below). When questioned in person, several hotel employees confirmed the couple's attendance and intimate association. _**

**_As if these documents aren't damning enough, Tomlinson's bank statements clearly reflect the leasing of an apartment in Battery Park four months before the divorce paperwork was filed (see leasing agreement below). Although not on the lease paperwork, Apperton has her name on the mailbox and has often called the management company to complain about other tenants. (continued on Page 4)._**

No longer interested in reading the rest of the expose, Miranda placed the paper carefully on her desk. Andrea had been very thorough, including in-depth interviews and eye-witness accounts of the couple seen around town and across the nation during their trysts. The girl had left copies of all the damning evidence, along with names of people willing to submit affidavits and to appear in court, if it came to that. Miranda couldn't help but believe Stephen would want to settle now. Although it was tempting to turn the tables on him and take revenge, the fashion icon just wanted this part of her life to end. She wanted to move on with her life.

Miranda realized she had some soul-searching to do and some important decisions to make. She needed to take stock of what she wanted. The words Andrea had uttered had impacted her as powerfully as the asteroid that created the Moon's Sea of Tranquility. Miranda felt fundamentally changed. Her entire reality seemed altered. How could she continue to live as she had before this day? These feelings were bittersweet. For once in her life, Miranda did not know how to proceed. And she had reacted horribly. It may be that she had ruined any chance of keeping Andrea in her life with that little stunt. Perhaps Andrea would understand, would not give up. Miranda moaned like a wounded animal, holding her head in her hands as she rocked slowly.

The most prudent course of action would be to do nothing, at least until she could figure out what the hell she wanted. However, Miranda had no intention of acting prudently or allowing Andrea to slip through her fingers again. She had admitted to herself long ago that it had been a mistake to not convince Andrea to come back to _Runway_. Miranda had let the girl go because she could not fathom asking an employee who had left her, Miranda Priestly, to return. Her pride would not allow her to implore anyone to reconsider, not even the one assistant who had taken care of her, who had anticipated all of her professional needs, who had made her life easier, and who had made her smile of all things—no. Miranda simply could not bend herself to such an extent. But, oh, how she had wanted to lay aside her well-honed pretense of disinterest and persuade the girl to stay. Miranda was no fool, though. Andrea had presented her with an opportunity to interact. Miranda would not throw this gift away. She would not throw Andrea's affections away. She would find a way to repair the breach.

That settled, Miranda quickly devised a plan to entice Andrea to give Miranda a chance to—what? What did Miranda actually want from the girl? Her presence, for a start.

Her first action must include some understated groveling. Very well. She had a gala to attend in two weeks. Miranda would have an invitation sent to Andrea. Mind made up, Miranda joined her children in Caroline's room where they were listening to music and working on their math homework.

"Mom, are you and Andy friends?" Cassidy asked. Caroline looked at her mother while she waited for an answer.

"Not quite. But I think it could become a friendship," Miranda answered slowly.

"But she left you. You said she was ungrateful." Caroline sounded confused. Miranda grinned humorlessly. _Join the party._

Cassidy elbowed her sister. "But Mom was also sad," she added giving Caroline a pointed look.

"I know this is unusual, but she is different." Not much of an explanation, but it was all she could provide. Her children looked at her, unconvinced. "I like her. Once you spend more time with her, I believe you will understand." _And then perhaps you can explain it to me._

Kissing both girls on the forehead, Miranda indulged in hugging them both tightly. They were precious to her. Growing up so fast, having to accept all of Miranda's missteps within her pitiful excuse for a personal life, they deserved so much more. They were still young enough not to be jaded, yet clearly their naivety had faded. Miranda took full responsibility for such changes in their personalities. They had been paying for her mistakes all their lives. Miranda was determined to do something right for once. To listen to her heart instead of her head. To step through her fear. What Andrea had done was mind-boggling. How Miranda had responded was unacceptable. It was time to change.

* * *

><p>Miranda swept into <em>Runway<em> full of purpose. She spouted off the usual work demands to Emily as she strode toward her office. Reaching out for her piping hot coffee, Miranda paused in her list of requirements, waiting for Emily to look at her. "Get Lagerfeld on the line. That's all." Miranda flicker her wrist for effect and sat down primly. Picking up the phone at Emily's voice, Miranda told the designer what she required. By the time she hung up, Miranda felt a delicious smile cross her face. With a few more phone calls, things were falling into place.

In ten days a courier would deliver to a very unsuspecting reporter's workplace a little black Chanel evening dress, matching Louis Vuitton black high-heeled pumps with red soles, a shimmering Jimmy Choo clutch, and Tiffany jewelry, along with an invitation to attend the event. Operation Groveling for Forgiveness Without Discussing Anything was well on its way. Miranda just hoped she could persuade Andrea to forego trying to discuss Miranda's olive branch. Miranda shuddered delicately at the thought.

Now that the arrangements were made, the editor was able to concentrate on the thousands of details that had to be attended to in order to produce the next magazine issue. Reviewing the latest fashion shoot results, Miranda felt her attention breaking when she heard Andrea's name mentioned. Glancing through the front window, Miranda could see Emily and Nigel conversing in low tones as they shot looks her way. Miranda made sure to seem properly engrossed in what she was doing as she tried to hear what they were saying. Snatches of "8 p.m. tonight at Divine Bar," "I can't wait to get the scoop," and "can you believe that article?" filtered through to Miranda's office._ Who are they talking about?_ Miranda listened for more information. "Yes, our Six is all grown up now," from Nigel and "she wore hideous skirts…writes acceptably," from Emily gave her a good indication they were discussing her Andrea. As tempting as the idea was to crash their little party tonight, Miranda couldn't see a way of pulling it off without causing a spectacle. She'd embarrassed herself enough yesterday with her deplorable behavior. She would not compound it any further.

For the rest of the day, Miranda's mood deteriorated rapidly. She began to fret over whether Andrea would tell Emily and Nigel about yesterday's debacle. Miranda contemplated keeping them both at work using some trumped up excuse. She became more worried and angry as the day progressed. Finally, in a flash of insight, Miranda realized just how unreasonable she was behaving and left the office in a huff. She could have sworn she heard the entire floor heave a collective sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed, carrying her to the ground floor and away from her harried employees. Miranda resolutely decided she would not allow her insecurities to control her actions today. The three of them would drink and laugh; whatever Andrea told them was up to her. Perhaps they would console her or laugh derisively at her naïve belief that she could be a part of the Snow Queen's life.

Miranda sighed. She wanted to prove Andrea's affections were well placed, that she was worthy. But Miranda hadn't quite convinced herself. Regardless, she would allow Andrea to get closer, even knowing that when the rose-colored glasses were removed, the journalist would realize just how unlovable Miranda was. Andrea was so callow, so optimistic. She thought she knew what she wanted, but she had no idea. Miranda leaned against the car window, listlessly noting the unending flow of people traveling on the sidewalks. Andrea would see her for the fraud she was. The girl would quickly discover just how ill-equipped Miranda was to form even one lasting, meaningful relationship. And then she would leave again. This time, for good.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

After dragging her tired body into work, Andy slumped in front of her computer. Hump day. Half-way through the work week. Ten days since Miranda had ruthlessly chewed her up and spit her out. How could she think Andy had an ulterior motive? Didn't that woman trust anyone? According to Nigel and Emily, no. They should know. Andy was still a bit miffed with the sarcasm and mocking laughter they'd directed her way when she had revealed Miranda's suspicions for the article. They were quick to gang up on her, indicating they entertained the same thoughts as Miranda did.

That had hurt. Andy wasn't manipulative. Andy didn't use people to get an advantage. Andy just wanted a chance to get to know the private Miranda, the one who worried about her children, and cried over her failed marriage, and pulled herself up from humble beginnings. Andy was beginning to wonder, however, whether anyone knew the woman behind the icon, even Miranda. Was the woman so driven she couldn't allow anyone to get close? Did Miranda even explore what motivated her to act the way she did?

The pensive reporter was jarred from her thoughts by the arrival of a courier with a garment bag. Thanking the courier, she laid the bag on her desk and unzipped it. Andy felt her eyes widen as she removed the dress—a classic little black dress by Chanel. It was spectacular. It would drape off her shoulder with a fitted bodice and smooth lines to just above her knees. She could hardly wait to try it on. Checking the bag's pockets, Andy chuckled when she saw the shoes—not too high so she could actually walk. How thoughtful. The red soles would catch people's attention as she moved across the room. Classy. A hand-stitched clutch glittered under the harsh fluorescent lights, blinding Andy with its beauty.

Spotting the Tiffany jewelry box, Andy stiffened, shocked. Opening it carefully, she stared for long minutes at the gorgeous pendant nestled within the box's confines. It was a pear-shaped ruby pendant encased in 18 karat gold and attached to a herringbone gold chain. Snapping into action, Andy frantically looked through the rest of the garment bag pockets. She searched for a message, something that would explain why she had received this outfit and fantastic necklace from Miranda. _Only Miranda could have sent them._ Finding the envelope, Andy ripped it open and read the contents ravenously. The invitation merely confirmed her guess that she was to wear these pieces to the grand event. It was the hand-written note that truly riveted her attention. As succinct as its writer, the words, _For you. _Andy felt faint.

This gala was one of the biggest, most extravagant events of the year. Anyone and everyone would be present. To be invited meant you were a somebody. The opportunity to hobnob with the best of the best, including those in the publishing business—unimaginable. Yet, here was this invitation, this unspoken apology.

Andy thought about the last time they were together. Miranda had acted so horribly. Nothing had made sense. It's not that she'd imagined Miranda would welcome her back with open arms, but the suspicion, the attack—they had hurt her. Miranda had hurt her.

It's not even as if Miranda had been negatively affected by the article. In fact, all indications pointed toward a divorce degree being entered in favor of Miranda within a couple of months. Stephen did not want any more negative publicity, and his attorneys were working toward entering an agreement that minimized the damage Andy had propagated. The journalist had been surprised to learn that Miranda wasn't pressing her advantage by taking Stephen for all he was worth. Evidently, she just wanted the divorce completed as quickly as possible.

Andy suspected that Miranda hadn't been ready to deal with her, as outlandish as it seemed. Or perhaps it was what Andy offered. At any rate, Miranda seemed to have overcome her misgivings enough to execute this gesture. Andy had no intention of wasting the opportunity.

It had been hard to leave Miranda's townhouse without defending herself even after all the terrible accusations Miranda had hurled her way. Andy had wanted to explain, to make the stubborn editor listen. She had wanted to cut through Miranda's defenses and shake away her doubts. Yet, after seeing Miranda's blazing eyes, feeling her punishing grasp, and experiencing those cutting words, Andy had known nothing she did, nothing she said would penetrate the white-haired woman's walls.

So she had left. Without a word.

A strategic retreat. Andy snorted indelicately. Like she had planned out every contingency. Like she had known exactly how their lunch would play out. As if.

Andy had planned to stay away for a while before requesting an interview for the follow-up article. She had high hopes Miranda would grant it, at the very least to make sure the facts were related by someone who obviously cared for her.

Now, it seemed, Miranda had decided to take her own action. Flutters erupted in Andy's belly. _This has to be a positive sign, right? Yes, this was definitely good._

Miranda wasn't the only one who lived on hope.

* * *

><p>Gliding up to Emily and Nigel while attempting to appear calm was no easy task. She knew she looked good: how could she not when her outfit had been hand-picked by Miranda? Yet, Andy could not deny her nervousness. How would Miranda act toward her? Knowing the editor, Andy had to assume that there would be no discussion concerning Sunday's conversation. This rubbed Andy the wrong way. She was a strong proponent of talking through misunderstandings. Miranda, on the other hand, never explained herself or apologized. That's why this gesture in and of itself was so momentous.<p>

Greeting Emily, Andy found some comic relief from the first assistant's reaction. As Emily tried to connect the dots as to how Andy came to be by her side, Nigel whistled and slowly walked around Andy, studying the outfit closely. "Very nice, Six. Of course, this isn't a six, is it? A four, I presume? Hmm. Wonderful." Nigel stepped forward to deliver air kisses then turned to Emily. "She cleans up good, wouldn't you agree?" At Emily's sniff, Nigel laughed. "She's jealous."

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in?" Emily asked as she gripped her purse tightly. Andy could tell Emily was bothered and held back a chuckle as Nigel rolled his eyes.

"I was invited. I—" Andy stopped as she felt the energy in the room electrify. Looking toward the grand staircase, she saw Miranda begin her entrance. _Exquisite._ She couldn't have dragged her eyes away from such a vision even if she had wanted to. She had no such desire.

Flashes of champagne-colored cloth, supple skin, sparkling eyes, and a graceful walk overwhelmed Andy's senses. Suddenly the attractive woman stood before her gazing intently, slowly examining every inch of Andy's body. The young woman stood still as she felt a blush travel over the path Miranda's gaze had just journeyed. To Emily's chagrin, Miranda leaned in to deliver air kisses to Andy. Andy felt Miranda's breath against her ear as the editor whispered, "You look extremely fetching tonight, Andrea." Miranda pulled back, staring into Andy's eyes for long moments as a smile flirted with her lips before turning away to acknowledge her employees.

The rest of the evening became snatches of vivid moments coalescing into a kaleidoscope of impressions. Miranda kept Andy close to her by word and deed, often murmuring to the young woman inconsequential comments or grazing her with gentle fingers. Andy loved every moment. As the night wore on, the young woman felt Miranda staring at her more boldly, more often. Unable to ignore the effect of the powerful editor, Andy captured Miranda's gaze, searching those well-known blue eyes in question. They conversed silently, a wealth of emotion related through the give and take of body language and slight facial movements.

Suddenly Andy understood.

Miranda was afraid. Miranda did not know how to be vulnerable. Miranda railed at the idea of opening up to someone, of revealing the woman behind the professional persona for fear that she would be found lacking. Against all these obstacles, though, Andy recognized a determination reminiscent of the steely resolve the formidable woman often presented when working to meet a deadline. She could see that Miranda wanted to try. Which meant she would succeed, even if this venture were extremely personal, even if she could not choreograph every move. Andy felt happiness bubble inside her. She felt powerful. Miranda wanted Andy in her life. Andy felt a hand on her lower back guiding her forward. Soon they were standing in a small, deserted vestibule staring into each other's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked. Andy nodded enthusiastically, causing the editor to smile. Miranda melded into Andy's body as her hand pulled Andy's neck forward. Then they were kissing. Desperate, hard—it was more passionate, more erotic than Andy could ever have imagined. Tongues dueled for dominance as they pressed together; in this realm, at least, Andy felt confident. She loved to kiss. She knew how to elicit moans. She knew how to relate through a kiss her desires, her needs, and her affection.

Right now she desired Miranda.

Not to say she didn't care deeply for the editor or she was merely looking for an affair—in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. However, she was smart enough to recognize that this road would be a long one where many battles would be fought. Miranda probably treated this as a war against her heart, while Andy viewed it as a war for Miranda's heart. There would be tests, boundaries would be drawn and erased, fights would result in giving up and trying again. Andy had a secret weapon, though. Andy knew, even if Miranda did not, that she would not stop until she got what she wanted—completely, unequivocally, and absolutely. And now that she knew Miranda wanted this, too, nothing would keep her from obtaining her goal—Miranda's love. Today, though, she'd settle for receiving Miranda's lust.

With such thoughts fueling her actions, Andy ran her hands across flawless skin as she punctuated her passion with penetrating tongue swipes seeking out every secret of the enticing editor's mouth. Miranda's back muscles flexed as Andy lightly massaged, stroking the area in synch with her tongue strokes. This woman oozed sexuality. For all her sophistication, elegance, and grace, right now in Andy's arms, she was the epitome of wanton, wild abandon. Andy felt Miranda's moan well up as she continued her loving attack, allowing her hands to cup Miranda's bottom intimately and to caress the area suggestively.

"I want you, Miranda," Andy breathed. "I want to make you forget everything but the feel of my hands on your body and my lips making love to yours. Let me help you feel so good, Miranda," Andy crooned. "Let me touch you."

Miranda broke away, her eyes clouded with passion. She took great shuddering breaths, pain evident on her face. "What was I thinking?" Miranda muttered. "I can't do this."

"What? Why? I—" Andy had a hard time focusing on Miranda's words.

"Think, Andrea. The divorce. If this got out, I could be destroyed. All that investigating you did, all those months you dedicated to helping me, would become worthless."

Andy nodded jerkily, at a loss in so many ways. She felt gentle fingers lifting her chin upward to stare into emotion-stained eyes. Andy searched intently for some indication of Miranda's feelings. She saw sadness coupled with yearning.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." Andy watched as Miranda turned away, trembling hands ghosting over her hair and gown aimlessly. "Perhaps it would be best if we did not interact until this divorce business has concluded." Miranda returned her gaze to Andy as somberness cloaked the air.

"No! That is unacceptable. We can be discreet, Miranda. Please." Andy knew she sounded desperate but, God damn it, she couldn't go back to a life without Miranda in it. She clutched the editor's arms, entreating her, "Don't walk away. Don't." She felt tears welling in her eyes and blinked them back forcefully.

"I have no choice, Andrea," Miranda replied.

"You told me once that we always have a choice. Don't make this one." Andy was drowning. She could see that Miranda had made up her mind.

"I am sorry." Miranda walked away as Andy shook with too many emotions to categorize. She felt lost.

"Damn it!" Andy hissed as she raised a shaking hand to her lips. Leaning against the wall, Andy attempted to gather her shredded dignity before reentering the ballroom. Once she returned, she knew without looking around that Miranda had left.

The air felt empty.

As Andy crossed the room, intent on leaving, Nigel waylaid her.

"Leaving already?" He eyed her with interest. "What happened? Looks like your puppy was just killed before your eyes." Nigel took her arm and led her to the bar. Turning to Andy, he waited for an explanation she was unprepared to give.

"Oh, you know," Andy replied noncommittally as she stared at her newly-acquired drink.

"Let me guess: Miranda strikes again. Well, it didn't take long to get back on her bad side, did it, Six?" Nigel teased.

"She doesn't have sides, Nige. It's one size fits all. If you make it on her radar, she shoots you." Andy moaned, gulping her wine. Andy completed the sentence silently: _In the heart._

Nigel clucked sympathetically. "You knew that already. Cheer up. She owes you now. Maybe that's what's bothering her."

Andy smirked. If only Nigel knew just how far off the mark he was. However, he did have a point. And she needed that follow-up interview. Feeling a bit better, Andy patted Nigel on the back. "Thanks, Nigel. You always know just how to cheer me up." The reporter smiled brightly.

"Well, you were looking more pathetic than usual," he grumbled. Hearing an elegant snort, they both turned to find Emily.

"Don't tell me you started drinking without me," she huffed.

Shaking their heads innocently while the assistant took a seat next to them, Emily proceeded to regale them with her snide observations of that night's attendants. Soon Andy was able to push aside her morose thoughts, allowing herself to enjoy time spent with friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Miranda blew air through her nose in displeasure as she sat in her chair brooding. She felt as if she had gotten nothing done. Every time she reviewed photographs or scoured through the Book Andrea's round, teary eyes intruded. The girl was too good to be true. No agenda other than to be with her? _Ridiculous._ How could she believe that? Andrea had the ability to hurt her, ruin her even, if Miranda allowed the younger woman to invade her life any more than she had. If Miranda had any sense left, she would run far, far away and forget the day she'd ever met the disruptive girl. It seemed, however, that her good sense had abandoned her.

Closing her eyes and pressing against the corners with her thumbs, Miranda attempted to vanquish her wayward thoughts. Images of their shared kisses pushed to the front of the agitated woman's mind relentlessly. She relived how Andrea's lips had tasted, how much she had wanted to lose herself during those few blissful moments of physicality. What Andrea offered was exhilarating. Miranda knew she would be foolish to ignore the possibility of happiness, even in light of her past romantic failures.

For a few moments she had felt complete. _Those kisses._ Miranda couldn't help but hope the kisses had meant as much to Andrea as they had to her. Even during those few moments she had been unable to control herself. She'd meant to deliver a chaste kiss, just enough to communicate that she did care about Andrea and that she regretted the words she had said when they were last together. Yet once their lips had connected, all thoughts of propriety had left. The girl had tasted so good. _Too good._

Andrea would be her undoing. No. It was already too late. The truth was that Andrea had single-handedly defeated her, reducing an independent, self-sufficient, career woman to a needy, love-sick idiot with ease. _I'm pathetic. My doom is sealed._ Miranda smiled humorlessly.

_I am not in love_, Miranda firmly instructed herself. Yet, her heart whispered other words.

No matter how she tried to deny it, there was no turning back, no forgetting how perfect holding Andrea had felt. Insecurities gnawed at the edges of Miranda's mind. It would take time for them to fade away completely, but the obvious changes Andrea had experienced during their separation helped. Miranda sensed a maturity, a worldliness about Andrea that had been missing last year. Oh, the girl still seemed too optimistic, too naïve, but those qualities were tempered, balanced out by some hard-earned life lessons. Miranda was curious to find out what Andrea had experienced during their time apart. She wanted to know everything about the girl. Moreover, she wanted to reveal herself to Andrea. Just acknowledging these desires seemed to assure her fate. She'd lost her heart to the younger woman.

Recognizing the depth of her feelings did nothing to reduce Miranda's fear. She was scared. More than scared, she was terrified. It didn't help that her hands were tied until the divorce became final.

At least that part of her life was moving forward. With the proof of his infidelity in hand, Miranda's attorneys had ripped Stephen's absurd demands apart. Next week should prove to be the last time Miranda would have to set eyes on the loathsome excuse for a man. To think she used to share a life with him. Miranda felt bile rise in her throat. Well, soon he would be a bad memory. An example of why listening to her mind's rational directives needed to be overruled by her heart's guidance.

Turning her chair toward the row of windows, the editor sighed. She felt restless. In another week she could see Andrea. In fact, the email she'd received this morning had begun her unscheduled trip down memory lane. Andrea had formally requested an interview to follow up her original story. Miranda would grant the request, of course. She wanted to see the girl. Ached to see her. The prospect of waiting another week after months of introspection chafed. Miranda wanted to see the reporter now. This minute. She needed to feel that mouth, that body again. _This simply will not do._ Shaking her head in frustration, Miranda forcefully pushed aside her wayward thoughts to concentrate on her work. _One week_.

* * *

><p>Miranda slowed her gait when she saw Andrea sitting near the back of the courtroom busily taking notes on the hearing's results. When the girl looked up, Miranda felt as if she'd been sucker punched. "Andrea," Miranda drawled. She studied the girl closely noting the weight-loss and sunken eyes. Had she done this to the girl? Feeling contrite, Miranda warred with herself. They had arranged to go to lunch, but Miranda no longer wished to share the younger woman with the public. Too many prying eyes. Andrea looked so cautious, so guarded that Miranda knew she needed to make amends. "Come."<p>

Once in the car, Miranda said one word to Roy. "Home." She ignored Andrea's gasp of surprise.

Perhaps it was time to take Andrea at her word and to give her a real chance to prove Miranda wrong. So far, the girl had been nothing but truthful, kind, and devoted. What would be so wrong with behaving in kind? Miranda knew she had so much to give if she felt so inclined. If she could defeat her negative thoughts and baseless assumptions. She wanted to give into these feelings. She wanted to enjoy the euphoria of knowing she had someone who cared for her, regardless of her business acumen or fashion persona. At the end of the day, she wanted to be just Miranda and to be loved for it. She could see that with Andrea, it was all possible.

Sliding toward Andrea, Miranda raised the girl's hand and gently kissed the knuckles. Intertwining their fingers, the editor placed them on her lap before whispering, "Okay?"

"Yes," she heard, a word that was uttered quietly but resounded loudly.

Flashes of the way she had treated Andrea at the gala taunted her. She had behaved abhorrently. The girl had become so distraught it had broken Miranda's heart.

It was time to mend fences.

Once they arrived, Miranda reluctantly released her hold and proceeded to the townhouse. Not giving any indication of her plans, Miranda led the girl into the sitting room. After getting them situated with drinks, she asked, "You have questions for me?"

After a stunned silence, Andrea began the interview. Miranda was impressed with the girl's forthright manner. Forty minutes later, Andrea became silent. Understanding they were done, Miranda said, "Wait here," and left the room.

Unbeknownst to most people, Miranda was capable of cooking. The editor had plenty of food in the house and, no doubt, a hungry reporter nervously wondering why she had been directed to wait. She quickly pulled together the ingredients for Italian sandwiches and returned to Andrea. Observing the girl's shocked expression, Miranda smirked. "I did agree to a working lunch." She passed a plate to Andrea and sat next to her. Without further ado, Miranda began eating her sandwich silently. It felt good to just sit in the same room with Andrea.

"Why haven't you been eating?" Miranda asked as she watched the girl wolf down the sandwich. _She acts like this is the first meal she's eaten in months._ Miranda flinched as she realized that might very well be true.

Andrea looked up, startled. Chewing more slowly, the reporter stared at Miranda blankly. "I've been eating," she claimed.

Miranda made a show of studying the girl's body, her eyes resting on startled eyes. "No, you have not," Miranda stated with certainty. "I expect you to take better care of yourself, Andrea. Do I need to check up on you?" Miranda watched with satisfaction as color suffused the girl's face. Patiently she waited for Andrea to defend herself, to refute facts her body related so plainly.

"No! I…I've had a lot on my mind." Andrea stopped her pitiful explanation as Miranda shook her head and pursed her lips. "I'll do better."

"Good. And what about your lack of sleep? You aren't going to tell me that also has to do with having a lot on your mind, are you?" Miranda continued. The editor watched Andrea hesitate before shaking her head. "It's settled, then." Miranda gentled her voice, allowing it to relay her concern. "You will eat, and you will sleep. I do not want to see you in this condition again. Do not disappoint me, Andrea." Although the words might seem harsh, her intentions stemmed from worrying for Andrea's welfare. Hopefully, Andrea would understand.

Miranda studied the beautiful girl, reacquainting herself with every coveted curve. "Andrea," she began. "I want to see you again." She attempted to control her careening emotions as she waited for Andrea to react. Andrea's eyes lit up, her posture reflecting surprise and elation. Miranda let out the breath she'd been holding.

"I'd like that, too." The girl's eyes roamed over Miranda's form, igniting a passion held at bay since their lips had first touched. The girl leaned in slowly until they were a hair's breath away from each other. "Kiss me, Miranda," she breathed.

Tucking a piece of hair behind the reporter's ear, Miranda took the time to examine Andrea's face. Closing the distance, Miranda tenderly kissed Andrea's lips.

"You haven't changed your mind?" Miranda was unsure why she was asking for reassurance. Perhaps she couldn't think straight because she was just so stunned by the possibility that Andrea wanted to be with her.

Andrea's lips traveled over her throat enchantingly as she whispered, "Never. I've lived these last few months on memories of holding you in my arms. I've missed everything about you. Even the times you'd used me as your verbal punching bag. What does that tell you?"

"You're a masochist," Miranda said softly. She reveled in Andrea's surprised look and resulting bark of laughter. Curling her lips up, Miranda leaned in once more. After several more heavenly kisses, Miranda released the girl and sat back.

"Andrea." The younger woman gazed at her with coffee-rimmed irises. Miranda could see her reflection in the girl's large, obsidian pupils. Miranda toyed with the idea of not returning to work so she could ravish this beautiful woman. Hadn't she denied herself long enough? Didn't she deserve to grab happiness when presented with the opportunity? If this were a business decision, Miranda would not hesitate. However, this was a personal decision, one that would change her life.

Mind made up, Miranda reached out as she murmured again, "Andrea." Pulling the girl into a tight embrace, the editor allowed herself to just let go. Miranda crushed her lips onto pliant ones, eagerly thrusting her tongue into the warmth of Andrea's mouth. She heard a growl, surprised to realize she had issued it. Spurred on by Andrea's moans, Miranda weaved a hand through chocolate locks as she set about plundering the treasure she had been offered. She felt desire rise thickly, burbling like magma as pressure built.

Gently the impassioned editor lowered the girl onto the cushions, her hand exploring Andrea's enticing body. As her fingers mapped Andrea's ribs, Miranda allowed her lips to slide to the girl's ear. "I have wanted you for so long. You have no idea." Miranda moved her hands to the girl's shirt, unbuttoning it as she continued. "I have dreamt of you so many times. I've found these feelings to be distracting. They were," Miranda interrupted herself to nip at the skin revealed to her greedy eyes as she opened the shirt, "inappropriate." The white-haired woman licked Andrea's chest, smiling as the girl shuddered beneath her.

"All these years in this business, and my head had never been turned by a woman." Miranda continued to learn Andrea's body as her confessions continued. "I tried to drive you away." The fashion maven lifted her head, feeling strong emotion fill her. "When I finally succeeded, it was a hollow victory." Miranda lowered her lips to a lace-clad breast and covered the nipple firmly. Licking the area as she began to suck, the editor was gratified to feel the younger woman buck in response.

"Miranda. Oh, Miranda. I'm so sorry I left." Andrea wrapped her arms around the editor, one hand holding Miranda's face closely to her chest. The other hand pushed on the small of Miranda's back in rhythm with Andrea's undulating hips. "I've dreamt of this moment. It's what has kept me going all this time. I need you so much. So much." Andrea broke off as a cry broke free in response to Miranda's teeth grazing a sensitive nipple.

"Don't apologize. We both did a very good job of driving the other away. This is a second chance. I don't intend to waste it." Done with confessions, Miranda removed Andrea's bra and began to lavish attention on the other breast.

Through a haze of desire, Miranda heard a phone ringing. Determined to ignore it, the editor was surprised to feel Andrea stiffening under her, then pushing her to sit up. Dazed, Miranda watched Andrea answer her phone. _This is not happening. She is not getting up. She is not fastening her bra and buttoning her shirt._

Andrea sat down next to Miranda as the editor wondered how events had, once again, spiraled out of control. "Andrea?" _Was she really going to leave? Now? Unacceptable!_

"I'm sorry, Miranda. I'm still on the clock. I have to get back." Andrea rubbed Miranda's back in soothing circles. "I'd like to continue this. Soon. What you were doing to me, how you made me feel—I hate having to leave." Miranda could see the truth in the girl's eyes, but that didn't help her feel better. Miranda took some deep breaths to slow her heartbeats. To bite back her frustration.

It did not work.

"Do you mean to tell me that you intend to leave? Now?" Miranda demanded, her ire clear. "Does this mean so little to you that you can casually brush it aside?" Miranda unfurled from the couch like a cat ready to pounce. A rather large, irate cat. She loomed over Andrea. "What are you playing at, Andrea?"

"I, I'm not playing at anything," Andrea said as her head pulled in like a tortoise on the defensive. "I'm the low man on the totem pole. I don't have the luxury of skipping out of work indefinitely." Andrea's hands twisted on her lap. "This," she said as she waved a hand at the couch, "this means everything to me. If I need to choose, I'll stay. I can get a job elsewhere. You are much more important—"

"Stop." Miranda's gaze swept the room as she tried to gather her thoughts. _Absurd_. How could she ask Andrea to skip work? To choose? Particularly knowing her own track record during previous relationships. Just because Miranda was finally ready to reprioritize did not mean Andrea was willing or even able to do so. Miranda was allowing her selfish desires to distort her common sense. She knew Andrea wanted to be with her, had felt the girl's desire. More than that, all Andrea's actions pointed toward how committed she was to the editor. Lashing out at her was immature. She had to behave better than that.

"Can we, I'd like to see you tonight. I could come by after I finish," Andrea offered timidly. Miranda noticed the girl's hopeful expression and hated having to erase it.

"No. I have a late dinner with a new designer." Miranda tapped her index finger against her lips, now feeling more in control. Truly Andrea made a mess of her equilibrium.

"I understand. I'm just, well, let's just say I'd rather we had not been interrupted." At Andrea's nod, Miranda captured the girl's lips once more before leading Andrea to her door. Stepping aside, Miranda meant to allow Andrea to leave but instead pulled the girl in closely for one more hug. Miranda whispered, "I'll talk to you soon. I promise." And Miranda knew she would. This was one promise she would keep for both their sakes.

Pensively, Miranda watched Andrea walk down the street. This girl was worth the effort. She was worth overcoming insecurities and fear. Miranda was determined to prove to the younger woman that her affections were not misplaced. The next time they were together, Miranda would make certain that she never wanted to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Another long week dragged by before Miranda called Andy. "Are you free for dinner tonight?" were the first words she heard. Andy grinned.

"I could be. What did you have in mind?" Andy felt a bit giddy merely from hearing Miranda's sexy voice. She waited anxiously for Miranda's answer.

"Most of my thoughts are not mentionable while in the workplace. But I plan to show you later." Miranda's low purr caused a delicious shiver to run down Andy's spine. "What time do you finish work?"

"Um, six, but I'll need to change," Andy began eying her conservative charcoal pencil skirt and cranberry silk blouse with dismay.

"Andrea. It doesn't matter what clothes you are wearing. You won't be in them long. I'll pick you up at six."

After the tell-tale click signifying that Miranda had hung up, Andy sat lost in thought. The day after they had completed Miranda's interview, the editor had sent her a beautiful bouquet. Red calla lilies coupled with white roses—elegant and gorgeous like the sender. The card had simply said, _Next time you won't get away so easily. M._ Andy smiled.

The reporter sat for a few moments luxuriating in the promise she'd heard in Miranda's voice. She couldn't wait to feel the white-haired woman's body against hers. Andy refocused on the article in front of her. Determination fueled her actions to finish her work in time. She had a date with an amazing woman, and she intended to concentrate entirely on her once they were together.

* * *

><p>Sliding into the back seat after an interminably long day, Andy breathed a sigh of relief. Turning toward Miranda she smiled brightly. "Miranda. You are a sight for sore eyes."<p>

Miranda's lips curled upwards in response. "It is good to see you, too." Feeling fingers entwining with hers, Andy settled back while wondering where they were going.

Not that it mattered. Andy just wanted to be next to the woman. They could sit in silence for the next five hours, and Andy would love every moment. _Oh, yeah. I'm whipped._

Miranda swept through the restaurant as if she owned it. Then she surprised Andy by stopping at their table, holding out the chair for Andy to sit down, and pushing it forward before proceeding to her own chair. Andy was charmed.

Andy examined Miranda closely as she ordered a bottle of wine Andy knew cost more than her monthly rent. The fashionista looked wonderful. Her eyes captured Andy's with an intense stare once the sommelierleft their table. "May I order for you, Andrea?" Andy nodded, noting Miranda's pleased expression. The reporter loved the thought that Miranda wanted to take care of her. The editor really did have a rather pronounced romantic streak.

After the wine was poured and their dinners ordered, they were left alone. Miranda stroked the back of Andy's hand as a pensive look crossed her elegant face. "I've missed you," Miranda admitted softly. "These last few months have tested me sorely. It was one thing when I was ignorant of your feelings for me; I was able to push my feelings aside after you left by reminding myself how little you must care for me. After all, you left me without a backward glance." Miranda stopped when she felt Andy join their hands. The editor shrugged. "It kept me from tracking you down and demanding you come back."

"You wouldn't have," Andy gasped.

"I came close," Miranda admitted. "However, after your article and after spending some time with you, I have found that our time apart has become unbearable. Last week's interruption didn't help matters." Miranda squeezed the hand that felt so comfortable in her grasp. "I'm glad you are here now."

They sat, hand in hand, silently allowing a delicious tension to escalate. Once they finished dinner, they made their way outside. As soon as Andy entered the car, she knew she was in a world of trouble. The good kind of trouble. Miranda's lips covered hers in a possessive kiss. Andy slowed the kiss down, exploring Miranda's mouth as if she had all the time in the world. She held her editor firmly, reveling in every sound she provoked from the exquisite woman. Pulling away in surprise when she felt the car stop, Andy released the impassioned woman and followed her into the townhouse.

Without pause or conversation, Miranda led Andy into her bedroom and shut the door softly. The expression on Miranda's face when she turned gave Andy pause. The desire was present; yet, Andy also saw fear and uncertainty. Stepping up to Miranda, Andy gently framed Miranda's face with shaking hands and fell into that magnetic gaze. "You're safe with me, Miranda," she whispered. "You can trust me. I know you may find that hard to believe, but I intend to prove it to you." Tilting her head, Andy kissed the swollen lips sweetly.

Andy knew this could quickly devolve into animalistic, lascivious sex if she allowed it. Miranda might even prefer it to gentle, drawn-out loving. It would be easy to yield to the dictates of lust, avoiding emotions and feelings while sating the body's demands. However, Andy would not allow such a precedent for their lovemaking. The journalist wanted to build a future with Miranda. Tenderly stroking her ardent lover, she allowed herself the luxury of learning Miranda's body. Guiding Miranda to sit on the bed, Andy took off first one shoe, firmly rubbing the foot arch, pulling on the toes, and flexing the ankle before providing the older woman's other foot with the same treatment. Andy removed Miranda's clothing, laying the articles across a chair. Next, she rolled the hosiery down toned legs, massaging thigh and calf as she heard soft moans fill the room. Rising to her full height, Andy gazed at the woman before her, so beautiful it made her gasp. Miranda wore only her lingerie, silk and lace enhancing the tempting areas they hid. Andy felt her mouth water in anticipation.

"Disrobe for me, Andrea," Miranda directed. Without hesitation, Andy removed her shoes, placing them under the chair. Her blouse and skirt came next. Andy noticed Miranda's greedy gaze as she flexed her legs. Leaving her own undergarments on, Andy approached the editor with the intent of learning how to love such a magnificent woman.

Once she got within range, Miranda grabbed Andy around the waist and practically threw her onto the bed, straddling the surprised younger woman at her hips and using one hand to hold both of Andy's arms above her head. With a flick of her wrist, Miranda removed Andy's bra. "Now I have you just where I want you," Miranda muttered before attacking a painfully taut nipple with focused intent. "I've wanted to touch you for so long," Miranda spoke breathlessly, switching to the other breast and gently chewing on the nub. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, what you've always done to me?" Gliding her lips over Andy's chest and sucking on her clavicle as she squirmed, Miranda continued her confession. "Even that damn cerulean sweater couldn't deter my libido." Miranda sucked harder, soothing the slight pain with a slick tongue against the area. "What I wanted, what I've always wanted…Andrea, you cannot deny me any longer. I must have you, even if you become my destruction. Give yourself to me," Miranda pleaded as she made her way down Andy's abdomen, finally releasing Andy's wrists to grasp hips that gyrated in a sinuous rhythm.

"I'm yours, Miranda. Take me." _So much for slowly and lovingly._ Obviously, Miranda had other ideas. _Well, being ravished has its benefits, too._ This was only the first battle, anyway. Andy had every intention of taking control. Later.

Andy could feel the steady building of her climax. She tried to fight it, tried to slow down the impending explosion so she could mount a counterattack. But it was too late. Too many sensations, too many revealing words from a woman who normally preferred to remain silent, too many stimulating body parts brushing against her own were leading her toward a smashing orgasm.

As soon as Andy finished speaking, the inflamed woman slid down Andy's body to lick the inside of her thigh. Her panties were summarily removed, and Andy shuddered as she felt Miranda's breath so close to her center. A languid lick, a forceful suck and an erotic growl sent Andy careening over the edge so swiftly, so strongly that her back arched into a bow as her mouth dropped in astonishment.

If she thought Miranda was finished, though, she was quite mistaken. It seemed the alluring woman had only just begun. Miranda seemed intent on reducing Andy to a quivering, mindless heap of satisfied flesh.

"You are mine, Andrea Sachs," Miranda stated as she thrust two fingers into Andy forcefully. Setting a fast pace, Miranda moved up Andy's body to look into darkened eyes.

"Only I will touch you in this way. Only I will hear your cries as you come. Only I will drive you over the edge. You will not walk away again, Andrea. You simply cannot. Promise me," Miranda demanded.

"I won't ever leave you, Miranda. I promise. I promise. I belong to you." Andy felt no hesitation making a deal with the devil. She knew she was too far gone, had known for so very long. If this wasn't love, she would never feel it. Although she wanted Miranda to love her, too, she was willing to wait for that tender emotion to form. Only time would prove her worthy of Miranda's affections.

Adding another finger, Miranda continued, "I will give you everything. Everything, Andrea. Do you understand?" the powerful icon claimed Andy's lips in another all-consuming kiss. "Come for me now," Miranda urged.

Andy closed her eyes tightly and screamed as the strongest orgasm she'd ever experienced crashed over her. When Andy managed to pry her eyes open, she felt cool sheets sliding over her heated body and strong arms enfolding her tightly. Soft kisses rained across her face causing Andy to smile in satisfaction. _I just need a few moments to catch my breath. Just a few moments. Then I'll attack her._ Andy felt sated and woozy, tired and spent.

_Just a few moments._

Andrea opened her eyes to find Miranda gazing at her with an inscrutable look. "Tell me I didn't fall asleep," Andy groaned, mortified.

Miranda smirked. "It's only been a few minutes, Andrea." The white-haired maven turned onto her side, propping her head on her hand and smiling with amusement.

Mirroring Miranda's actions, Andy pushed the appealing woman onto her back and covered her.

"I'm awake now," Andy breathed and began to prove it.

* * *

><p>Andy awoke slowly. Although she knew she probably should make an appearance at the newspaper today, she balked at beginning her day when she could lie in bed reliving the night before. Hearing the door open, Andy sighed and turned to see a vision before her. Miranda walked toward Andy in only a towel. The awe-struck girl received a much-too-short kiss before pulling the compelling woman closer for a more passionate one, feeling water droplets land on her forehead, cheeks, and neck. Andy ran her hands over Miranda's towel-clad back, loving how Miranda's body felt against her.<p>

"Come have breakfast with me. I have to leave within the hour." Miranda moved away to get dressed as Andy sat up, now wide awake. "I took the liberty of providing you with an outfit." Miranda waved her hand toward the other side of the room where clothes were hung up. "Toiletries are in the bathroom."

Hopping up to begin her ablutions, Andy kissed Miranda's shoulder as she passed her and whispered, "Thank you."

Once in the kitchen sipping coffee, the journalist wondered what the hell had happened. One moment they were reading the newspaper and enjoying the shared quiet, and the next moment they were engaging in a heated argument.

"I don't understand. Page Six always writes trash. No one will believe what's printed there, and even if they do, they're not lying. We _are_ together." Andy shook her head trying to comprehend why Miranda was glowering at her.

"You don't understand? How stupid can you be, Andrea?" Miranda scoffed. "Of course this wouldn't bother you when it's only to your benefit. Or will you actually sit there and pretend you have no idea how such a picture will propel your career?" The editor shook her head as she rose from the table. "Stephen can try to reopen the case," Miranda seethed.

"He can't," Andy sputtered. "The divorce is final. You proved he committed adultery—"

"And now he can accuse me of the same with my then-assistant." Miranda's face turned ugly with suspicion. "Everything you said last night, were those lies meant to make me trust you? To make me fall into your big brown eyes and forget the rest of the world? And then when you were finished with me, you would have had quite the laugh at my expense, wouldn't you?"

Miranda strode to the kitchen doorway and looked back over her shoulder coldly. "You were a good fuck, but that's all it was."

Stunned, Andy stared at the kitchen doorway, silently commanding her tempestuous lover to return. "Shit. Shit, shit, fucking shit!" Andy pounded her fists on the table, confused and angry. Miranda's dramatic exits were getting old fast. How was Andy supposed to prove her trustworthiness and love if this was the way Miranda dealt with her feelings? Miranda just couldn't wait to prove Andy's betrayal. She created these ridiculous scenarios of Andy using her, hurting her—it was so maddening.

Recognizing that Miranda was sabotaging their chances out of some misguided belief that Andy was going to end up leaving her anyway provided Andy scant comfort. She could psychoanalyze the stubborn woman until the cows came home, but that wouldn't change Miranda's perspective. It seemed clear that Miranda would rather cut her losses and move on rather than allow herself to believe in what they were creating.

As those thoughts sunk in, Andy felt her righteous anger evaporate as waves of sorrow pounded over her. Wrapping her arms tightly around her middle, Andy bent over trying to contain her emotions. Then the tears came, as rapidly and intensely as any rain storm. She half expected to see the floor flooded with the resulting deluge. Sobs overtook her, her body shaking with the knowledge that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, Miranda would never trust her, would never love her. And it now seemed so clear that she would never hold her again. It was too much.

Too much.

Andy felt her heart shatter as the joy of just a few hours ago slipped away, replaced by a feeling of hollowness she had never experienced before. She whispered brokenly to the empty room, "Why won't you let me love you?"

"Because I won't survive when you leave me." Andy heard the softly-spoken words as arms wrapped around her bent form.

"Miranda," Andy breathed, feeling those blessed arms tighten in response. "Please. Please." Andy beseeched. "I can't…Miranda," she hiccupped, too far gone to form coherent sentences. Instead, she buried herself in Miranda's warmth, shivering so hard she could hardly control her body. "Don't make me…I can't…"

Miranda shushed Andy's pleas, pulling her off the seat and into a fierce embrace. "I won't let you go. I won't. You belong to me." Gradually Miranda's words silenced Andy's inarticulate ramblings, pacifying her.

Finally she could feel Miranda's hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Finally she could hear Miranda's soft voice promising to try harder. Finally she could feel her body calming down.

Suddenly extremely embarrassed by her immature display, Andy pulled back. "You must have to leave for work," she said while looking away. Feeling an insistent hand lifting her chin, Andy looked into glittering eyes.

"Don't be absurd. That can wait," Miranda barked. Taking a deep breath, Miranda gentled her voice. "Andrea, I am sorry. Please forgive me. I panicked." Seeing Andy shake her head, Miranda frowned. "I can't promise this won't happen again. I know I have quite the gift for eviscerating others, but, Andrea, don't give up on me. I need you."

Andy realized that her head shaking had been misconstrued. She had been thinking that Miranda asking for forgiveness was ridiculous. That was twice when normally the woman never second-guessed her actions. Andy didn't know how to react to such out-of-character behavior.

"Don't apologize, Miranda. It's enough that you want to try." Andy leaned in for a reaffirming kiss. "I'm not giving up on us. I promise." The budding journalist captured Miranda's lips once more, attempting to pour all her emotions into the kiss.

Drawing back to view her lover, Andy was graced with a bright smile from the white-haired beauty.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" Miranda murmured.

"I'd like that," Andy answered, mesmerized by the animation Miranda's face displayed.

"Good. I'll pick you up at 7. Where will you be?" Miranda cocked her head in question.

"Home—," Andy began.

"Andrea." Miranda interrupted. "It occurs to me I do not know where you live or your cell phone number. In fact, I only know your work information. Why is that?"

Andy gulped. "Let me write it down." Miranda tightened the circle of their embrace, effectively preventing Andy from moving.

"You can text me the information. I'm not quite ready to let you go." Miranda stared for long moments at Andy.

Andy bore the intense scrutiny, sensing Miranda was making a decision of some sort. "Will you stay tonight?" Miranda asked quietly.

Andy smiled. "I'd love to." Miranda nodded and released Andy.

"I'll see you later, then." With a last lingering kiss, the fashion mogul was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Miranda had the bad habit of attacking Andrea every time her fears overwhelmed her. The fashion icon knew she needed to find a better way to deal with her insecurities. Her defensive offensive, the way she attacked when feeling exposed, might drive the wonderful creature away. Miranda could not fathom living life without her now. She had meant to leave Andrea after their disagreement but could not when she had heard the sobs coming from the kitchen. Although before last night Miranda might have believed it kinder to let Andrea walk away while believing she did not care, the fashion diva knew today she was a changed woman. And infinitely better with Andrea in her life.

Hearing her cell phone signaling an incoming text, Miranda smiled. That must be Andrea with her contact information. The editor had some plans to make. Calling out to Emily, she waited impatiently. "Make reservations for two tonight at that place with the wonderful salads—7:30 sharp. Arrange for Roy to pick me up from here at 6:30. Get me copies of all the proposed feature articles for the next issue. That's all."

Miranda indulged in the memories of how Andrea had worshipped her body so completely last night. Andrea had covered Miranda's body with her own, exploring every area as if she'd had all the time in the world. Whispering words of devotion and affection, the girl had effortlessly reduced Miranda to begging and promising if only she could continue to feel the girl's magical hands. At one point tears had escaped Miranda's tightly closed eyes as Andrea's full lips had kissed them away. The way Andrea had made love to her had scared the older woman more than she cared to admit. She could see herself getting too used to such tender care, too used to awakening to Andrea's soft exhalations and curvaceous body, too used to needing all that the lovely girl offered so freely.

Even though her fears loudly demanded she distance herself from the bewitching girl, her heart reminded her how Andrea had sounded when she climaxed and the plans Miranda's mind had spun as their desires had played themselves out. It really was a useless battle, though. Miranda was well aware that she could never turn the girl away. Not now. Even during their earlier argument, Miranda had struck out half-heartedly. It was a pointless exercise. If she had just taken a moment to think before attacking her, Miranda would have recognized how slim the chance was that Stephen could successfully mount a case against her, even knowing she and Andrea were now together.

_Well, then._ It seemed Miranda would need to indulge in some more groveling; it was time to revert back to Operation Groveling for Forgiveness Without Discussing Anything. Miranda sighed in resignation.

* * *

><p>Viewing the apartment building where Andrea resided, Miranda sucked in her breath. Deplorable. Certainly not worthy of her lover. Andrea deserved better. Miranda understood the financial constraints inherent with Andrea's career choice, but she still chafed at this reality. If she had her wish, she'd demand Andrea move in with her immediately. After all, Andrea had proclaimed that she would not leave. Miranda certainly had no intention of letting her go. She was a woman who made decisions quickly and changed her mind slowly. However, that action was not a practical one. Not so soon. In addition, Miranda couldn't help but think that Andrea would resent Miranda's feelings concerning her abode, regardless of how warranted they were. Miranda sighed. She was getting ahead of herself. Again.<p>

Watching as Andrea practically skipped down the stairs, Miranda lost her breath. What a vision. Her haired flowed behind her as if held up by fairies while her eyes glowed with happiness. Her cheeks were flushed in the evening air stirring desire in the editor's belly. Miranda hadn't admitted to herself just how much she had longed to see the girl all day. Now the truth stared her in the face daring her to deny it. As soon as Andrea entered the car, Miranda reached for her hand. Pressing it, she raised her other hand to cup the girl's cheek.

"Andrea," she greeted as she took a moment to enjoy the reporter's appearance.

"Miranda," the girl replied returning the gaze as an unrestrained smile spread across her face. Miranda could do nothing but smile in return.

Miranda was sorely tempted to demand they return to the townhouse so she could feast on her lovely companion, but she refrained. Instead they enjoyed a leisurely meal where Andrea actually succeeded in making the normally unflappable woman laugh several times. Over coffee, Miranda presented her offer to her increasingly stunned lover.

"How would you feel about writing some freelance articles for _Runway_? It would expose your name to a much larger audience and attract other magazines toward your writing. It will also encourage your paper to give you better assignments." Miranda waited for Andrea to pick her jaw up off the floor, amused by the girl's obvious surprise.

When a frown marred Andrea's face, Miranda became perplexed. _What could be bothering her?_

"Miranda," Andrea began leaning forward. "I don't want you to do this for me just because we are together—"

"No, no." Miranda interrupted. "I've monitored your progress. Ask Emily if you must. I've had your paper delivered to the office since you got that job." Now Miranda leaned forward, intent on making her point. "No matter what our relationship is, I wouldn't make this offer if your writing was substandard. It would do the magazine and you a disservice." Sipping her coffee and making a face at the lukewarm temperature, Miranda refocused on Andrea. "So, no more excuses. Do you want the job or not?" she demanded imperially.

"Yes. Of course I want it." The startled girl squeaked.

"Good. Be forewarned that I won't go easy on you. You, just like any of our writers, must meet my expectations." Miranda felt it only fair to remind Andrea just how demanding she could be when it came to her magazine. After all, the silly girl hadn't worked for her in quite awhile. Thankfully, the bright journalist seemed to expect nothing less.

Operation Groveling for Forgiveness Without Discussing Anything was once more a success. She could create a manual on the best ways to placate a lover without resorting to senseless drivel. Miranda smiled, well-pleased.

Soon after their conversation they returned to the empty townhouse. Her girls were with their father this weekend. Although she missed them, she also welcomed the resulting privacy she and Andrea had been enjoying. It would not do to have an audience as they felt their way around trying to become comfortable with the changes in their relationship. This morning proved the perfect example of how not to act after a night of passion. Miranda rather likened her efforts to a bull navigating through a china shop or an orangutan dancing in a tutu—hard to imagine and worse to witness.

"Wine?" Miranda offered solicitously.

At Andrea's nod of affirmation, Miranda led her to the library. She pressed the button to start the gas fireplace, then proceeded to open a bottle of Vintage Port. Andrea looked comfortable with shoes kicked off and legs curled under her. Miranda sat down next to her, handing off one of the glasses. "To revelations," Miranda toasted. "I will always be grateful for your bravery in publishing your article, your courage in reentering my life, and your strength in dealing with my fears. Thank you, Andrea."

They sat silently, both lost in thought. It was getting colder out. Winter was just around the corner. "What are your plans for the holidays?" Miranda inquired.

"Hmm. A turkey sandwich from my favorite deli for Thanksgiving and a trip to my parents' home for Christmas. What about you?" Andrea looked at her, interest clear in her golden-hued eyes.

"Both here. Why don't you join us for Thanksgiving? I'd like you to be here." Recognizing Andrea's hesitation, Miranda tried not to read into it too much. Patting the girl's hand, Miranda quickly added, "Think about it and let me know me." Of course, Miranda would do everything she could to convince Andrea to join them. She simply would not allow the girl to remain alone on a holiday.

Modulating her voice, Miranda changed the topic. "Andrea, I am not very good at expressing my feelings." She stared at her lover, daring her to refute or to agree with her words. Neither would be tolerated while she bared her soul. "It doesn't help that I feel so ill-equipped to understand them." The fashion editor sighed, wondering where she was going with this spontaneous soliloquy. Still, she plowed on.

"But I do know this: you've granted me a gift, a beautiful, unexpected chance to be happy. I will try not to push you away, but I am counting on you to help me not sabotage this relationship." Miranda swallowed thickly, feeling tears choke her. "I'm not accustomed to feeling this way. I don't want to lose you again, Andrea." A hand over her heart stopped her painful confession.

"You are not going to lose me. It will get easier, I promise you. We'll make it work." Miranda clutched at the reassurance as if reaching for a life jacket while thrashing in churning water. Calmness settled over her. She felt a smile reach her eyes as their lips joined. Opening her mouth to welcome Andrea's tongue, Miranda whimpered her need.

Soon Miranda had disposed of the girl's clothes, relishing in how wanton she looked spread out before her. One lesson Andrea had taught her last night was just how willing she was to expose herself to Miranda. For some unfathomable reason, Andrea trusted her completely. It made Miranda feel all the worse for turning on her earlier.

Wanting to please her lover, Miranda painstakingly explored the supple body, seeking Andrea's pleasure points. She took the time to investigate each shudder and gasp, loving how responsive Andrea was to her ministrations. As Andrea became more vocal, reacting when Miranda licked her behind the knees and sucked at the base of the enticing woman's back, the editor felt her control slipping. Settling between toned legs, Miranda breathed in deeply, reveling in the heady knowledge that she had aroused Andrea to such an extent. Although Andrea squirmed, uttering senseless words as her fevered body sought release, Miranda continued relentlessly to deliver her special brand of torture.

Miranda licked ravenously at the wellspring created by her actions. Holding Andrea down, Miranda continued to feast, inserting her tongue inside as far as she could and wriggling while Andrea screamed her delight. Encouraged, Miranda thrust repeatedly as her hands pulled Andrea closer by grasping flexing buttocks. Rocking the aroused girl in time with her tongue, Miranda felt the tell-tale signs of Andrea's orgasm. Twitching her tongue more forcefully when she reentered Andrea's opening and tilted Andrea's pelvis upwards, Miranda felt victorious as the aroused girl shrieked. For long moments Andrea's body convulsed as ecstasy overtook her.

Giving her lover time to pull herself back together, Miranda slowly licked the entire area, not allowing one drop to escape her hungry mouth. As she felt Andrea begin to move in counterpoint to Miranda's attention, the older woman concentrated on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Miranda was nearly out of her mind; she felt she would explode soon. Ignoring her own needs, though, she chose to concentrate on bringing Andrea to another resounding climax. Sucking strongly, Miranda began to tap Andrea's clitoris with the tip of her tongue in random bursts. Soon Andrea lost control, keening, until finally pulling at Miranda's arms, urging her upward.

Not caring how frantic she appeared, particularly since, in fact, she was feeling rather desperate, Miranda slid up Andrea's body and whispered in her ear, "Your hand. Please."

Andrea quickly entered the enamored woman as she claimed a nipple with her lips. Miranda moaned as the dual sensations sent her careening out of control. Shouting Andrea's name into the night, Miranda lost track of everything except the wonderful sensations pushing her higher each moment. Instead of slowing down, Miranda found herself speeding up, grinding against Andrea as she felt a second orgasm take hold. In the wake of Andrea's name continuing to echo throughout the room, Miranda plopped down gracelessly. She lay motionless for long moments, loving the lethargy which had overtaken her. Feeling perspiration slide down her neck, Miranda delivered open-mouthed kisses to Andrea's chest. Leisurely, she licked the area, loving her lover's salty taste.

"I think I could get used to this," Miranda muttered, still overwhelmed by her body's response. She felt Andrea's body shake with laughter. Lifting her head, Miranda smiled as their eyes met.

"Tell me, Andrea," Miranda drawled. "How many times must I scream your name?" Miranda chuckled as she saw recognition alight bright eyes.

"Oh, Miranda," the quick girl answered with a wicked smile, "many, many more times, love. Certainly enough so you lose count." Andrea punctuated her statement with a resounding kiss.

"Hmmm," Miranda agreed, deciding she no longer minded repeating herself. Another revelation.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

"Andy! Are you ready? Mom's here." Looking up from her laptop, Andy smiled brightly. Miranda had been gone for five days overseeing a photo shoot in San Diego. Although the editor had wanted Andy to accompany her, the successful journalist had chosen to save her vacation time for a less work-oriented trip. After some grumbling, Miranda had agreed. However, now she was back, and Andy had a surprise for her lover.

They had been together for three years. Although Andy could not claim the entire time was blissful, she could state with certainty that they had worked hard to strengthen their bond. Miranda had stretched, stepping outside of her comfort zone time and again to express her emotions and to affirm her love for Andy. In turn, Andy had matured, learning to compromise and to look behind the obvious to determine what drove them to act in certain ways. They were two strong, independent women with very different ways of viewing life. Sometimes communication broke down, and they had to work much harder to reconnect. Neither hesitated to reach out, even when anger drove them to voice hurtful words. It was this type of commitment that reassured the younger woman Miranda wanted to be with her as much as Andy desired to be with the fashion diva.

"I'll be right there," Andy said to an impatient twin. Cassidy ran back out to check that everything was ready. Andy and the girls had decided to have Miranda's favorite dinner waiting for her. In addition, they were planning to present Miranda with a gift Andy prayed she'd love.

Submitting her newest article to the _Times_, Andy shut down her computer for the night and left their den. Striding down the stairs, the excited woman heard her lover's voice mixing with her daughters' words as she reached the entranceway. As always, Andy felt overwhelmed by how strongly Miranda affected her. Their eyes met, and the world slowed down. For the first time since Miranda had left, Andy felt she was able to breathe deeply. Then she felt heavenly arms pulling her forward and lips melding with hers. Surprised by Miranda's willingness to embrace her in front of Caroline and Cassidy, Andy froze before giving into the moment fully. As if she could ever resist the alluring woman.

"Being separated from you becomes harder each time. I love you, Andrea," Miranda whispered.

Andy was deeply moved. Miranda didn't normally express herself quite so plainly. She felt a thrill shoot through her as the editor's declaration resounded through her soul. Hugging her lover tightly, Andy responded, "I missed you so much, Miranda. It was so hard not to hop on a plane to join you. I'm glad you're home." Stepping back, she held onto Miranda's hand as she brought her into the dining room.

"Sit," Andy commanded gently. The girls quickly served everyone the delicious meal and began peppering their mother with questions regarding the shoot. Andy listened quietly, content to gaze at her lover while she answered the twins' questions and they, in turn, told her about their week. The flow of conversation soothed Andy. She hadn't slept well without Miranda next to her. Instead, Andy had cranked out several articles, wandered the halls of the townhouse, and lain in bed hugging Miranda's pillow. It was all rather pathetic.

"Andy, it's time for dessert," Caroline said, stressing the last word as she stared at her pointedly.

"Oh!" Jumping up, Andy suggested, "Let's move this into the sitting room. Taking Miranda's hand again, Andy led her toward the room before saying, "Close your eyes."

"Did you hit your pretty little head?" Miranda asked, rolling her eyes.

"Come on, Mom. Please?" Cassidy asked.

"Oh, very well." The fashion editor made a great show of demonstrating that she was put out. Of course, everyone knew she was not seriously irritated.

Smiling, Andy opened the door to the sitting room and seated her partner in a wing chair. "Keep your eyes closed until we tell you," Andy warned. Miranda smirked.

Directing a nervous look toward the twins, she felt bolstered when she saw their supportive looks. Crossing the room, she turned on the picture lights and returned to Miranda's side. "Okay, open your eyes," Andy directed, her voice cracking a bit.

Watching Miranda closely, Andy saw a myriad of emotions cross the beautiful woman's face; Andy identified shock, wonder, admiration, and love among the stream of reactions. She observed the white-haired woman approach the painting slowly as the twins began to fill Miranda in on how they had arranged for it.

Several months ago the girls had approached Andy with the idea of having a family portrait created. Although they had envisioned including their Mom in the preparations so they could pose together, Andy had sold them on the idea that it would make a wonderful surprise. They had submitted several individual photographs to the painter so he could familiarize himself with their personalities as well as their looks. In addition, they had provided him with the picture they wished to have replicated. It had been taken at an outdoor wedding in the Hamptons. As they had crossed the grassy expanse with the ocean sparkling behind them, Miranda had looked up at Andy with obvious affection while the girls laughed at something the journalist had said. The captured moment was precious.

Andy saw tears brimming in Miranda's eyes as she whispered, "I love it. Thank you." She hugged her girls tightly before facing Andy. "I don't know what to say."

"Shh. You don't need to say anything. We love you. I love you. That's all." Andy flipped her wrist dramatically and grinned as she used Miranda's well-known catchphrase.

"Hmm," Miranda responded with a severe look on her face. It didn't last long. Her eyes softened as she gazed at her family. "Remind me why I love such a cheeky girl," she drawled.

"That may take some time. Perhaps we should get more comfortable," Andy answered while leaning her forehead against Miranda's.

She heard juvenile groans and quickly uttered good-nights as Miranda pulled Andy in for a heated kiss. "Yes. I think that is a smart idea. Come along, Andrea," Miranda purred as she left the room. From down the hall Andy heard, "By all means move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me." Andy chuckled as she jogged up the stairs to join her lover.

The End.


End file.
